The Prognostication Read online

  --

  The inmates faked affectionate hugs with their visitors with the exception of Damion who wrapped his arms around his mother--cradling her in a loving embrace. Christophe wrinkled at the eyes and twitched his mustache at the sight.

  They said their protracted goodbyes.

  Once they had left Damion trudged back the short distance to his cot. The worn man released a long overdue sigh he had held in before he collapsed on the flimsy mattress. The springs bounced up and down by the sudden force, creaking each time.

  Christophe said out of nowhere, “How long?” referring to Esmeralda and Josh backtracking after they had done what they needed to do for everyone to be able to escape.

  “Jury’s still out on him.”

  “Your Viper hero?”

  “Hero? Or Zero.”

  “FRN wouldn’t make a mistake by sending the wrong guy Damion. Think about it.”

  “That’s an awful lot of confidence to put into one man springing us from this hole though, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know what to think,” the French scientist truthfully admitted.

  Damion blinked fast. Finally choosing to look away. “Yeah.”

  At last the cavalry had returned. In unprecedented quickness only Damion and Christophe’s cell door clicked open. The two captives didn’t move right away, initially. Both of them were too stunned the plan was actually working.

  Damion mumbled, “Pinch me.”

  --

  Chapter 11

  A small caliber firearm hovered at a lethal angle directly behind the limo driver’s head. The woman who held it ordinarily planned meetings in the back of the her spacious vehicle as the interior minister of Germany.

  Her arm didn’t shudder. No sign of nerves whatsoever. She willed herself to play her role to perfection.

  “I have nothing to lose,” Seth indignantly postured, turning his neck enough to see the threat with his peripheral vision.

  Sofia Keller cocked her gun. “Only your life,” she blustered.

  “What is that?” Seth countered. “Death is just the gateway to eternity.”

  Keller scowled hard. “Christian?”

  “Reformed Jew.”

  “Whatever.” Her gun left its target for a millisecond. “You’re all the same to me. You must die.”

  As he drove the new circuit Seth noticed a familiar black SUV closing in from the east. He knew Tyrone Banks and Alfonso Marcello had his back. Unfortunately for him the only way he’d walk away from being held at gunpoint involved a wreck.

  Seth decided to create a little more conversation to ensure the hand that threatened him stayed distracted. The traffic around his limo had thinned--good fortune.

  “So Baruch is the canary, eh?”

  Keller beamed at hearing this. “You can’t trust anyone in this day and age. How does it feel? Doublecrossed, backstabbed.”

  Seth mused. “What’d you promise him?”

  Sofia sneered. “Money talks, Markov.”

  “Hey Sofia...”

  “Huh?”

  In that crucial moment an erratic driver ran the red light, slamming at a high rate of speed dead center into the side of the stretch limo. The significant force of the crash threw Sofia’s aim off of Seth. Her arm smacked into the window. As a result the gun went off. However the bullet whizzed by Seth’s shoulder missing the Israeli who subsequently lost control of Keller’s vehicle.

  --

  Three against one weren’t odds a man with Seth’s ability feared. A straight on confrontation wouldn’t be in his favor, however. From his earlier scouting the hunters turned out to be Mossad.

  He had an idea.

  The flash bang he tossed managed to disorient his pursuers long enough for Seth to reach a control panel where he would further slow his opposition down. His quick fingers keyed in a sequence. The screen froze then finally accepted the input.

  A loud noise forewarned anyone with ears something bad was about to happen. The massive glass door reinforced with crisscrossing beams forming an X hastily slid down the track towards the side of the hangar.

  A cold blast of air rushed into the station. Anything unsecured would certainly become space junk with the tugging forces of the outer world being unleashed through the open door.

  To Esther, Baruch and Azriel the experience could have been compared to a hurricane making landfall; unless they found a tree to hang on to, they’d be swept out to sea.

  Several yellow and red barrels with very flammable contents were the closest thing to trees as one could get. They were nearly filled to the rim with deadly fuel. The container not quite as weighty as its siblings took a tumble onto its side, eventually rolling out the airlock.

  If it hadn’t been for quick reflexes and fast thinking the hunting party would’ve jettisoned off the station with zero chance of survival after that. Simulation over. But by now their target may have already circumvented their trap and escaped.

  From one wonky moment to the next it looked more and more like Esther and Azriel needed more practice at this mission.

  The projection of Baruch’s character suddenly lost his handholds to the overpowering vacuum winds which sucked him out into the void.

  Esther and Azriel watched the agent being ripped away. His arms were outstretched, his face a sheet of petrified horror. He wildly grabbed at anything he could but to no avail. All was lost.

  The hangar bay started dropping pixels left and right. They were gradually no longer on a space station fighting for their lives but rather in the center of Sim Room 1.

  “He escaped.”

  Esther and Azriel spun to face a very unhappy uncle Ephraim who stood off in the shadows of the large space. His arms were folded.

  “He was better than you,” Ephraim continued his attack.

  “This time,” Azriel pushed back.

  “Tomorrow. Again! Same place. Same time. Don’t fail me.”

  --

  Damion and Christophe just had to follow their rescuers. No leg irons needed to come off.

  The Scorpion stockade had been an altogether unpleasant experience, yet easily just a momentary disruption of life events. Damion only missed a war that took place at the corporate offices and R&D center of Westover Ventures. And more recently the ongoing sky invasion. Hardly relevant to an important man’s life.

  The lights in the jail’s hallways were severely dimmed. All security cameras bowed to the floor, failing to see the escapees fleeing.

  “How did you do turn this place upside down so quick?” Damion called after Josh.

  The Viper agent turned around without slowing. “We’ll have time later to trade stories.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Christophe spoke, “I assume there’s a backdoor we can make use of?”

  “Too obvious. They’re positioning their forces around every exit point as we speak. We’re going underground,” Josh answered solemnly.

  Christophe nodded in approval.

  Esmeralda appeared indifferent. She still trusted Josh’s judgement though.

  The group passed through the facility unimpeded. They hadn’t gone too far when Damion suddenly pivoted and turned around.

  “What are you doing?!” his mom cried.

  He raced back to the cell block they just left. “We forgot Heather!”

  “Who?”

  Christophe attempted to explain then gave up. “Be right back,” he said worriedly as he chased after Damion who had a good lead on him.

  None of the escapees realized that it was nearly time for the warden to make his rounds. Finding an open cell door with the inmates gone would immediately throw the facility into lockdown.

  Damion soon stood outside Heather’s holding cell in a panic. Problem. Josh hadn’t opened her door.

  “I tried to tell you…” Christophe said panting after he arrived a bit later than Damion. He bent over out of breath with his hands above his knees for support.

  Then things escalated quickly.
r />   “Get down!” Josh barked. He and Esmeralda had backtracked also, and not a moment too soon. The Viper agent had his weapon out that he had obtained from a fallen guard in the communications room.

  The sound of a clanging key ring and heavy boots alerted Josh to the impending confrontation. He already lined the shot up before the dead man came into view. A speeding bullet obliterated the target’s head.

  Damion and Christophe hit the deck after the report of a gunshot. Both whipped their heads around to witness the damage. Neither man had seen a human die such a gruesome death like that. Blood and tissue painted the formerly white walls of the hall.

  Josh was the only one not appalled by the sight of the gore. He brushed past Christophe and Damion who were still lying down. The agent then snagged the keys from the waist of the dead warden. In a few tries he got lucky guessing the right one that opened Heather’s door.

  She looked scared seeing Josh enter her room first with his gun still out defensively. But when Damion and Christophe crowded into the cell too the apprehension went away instantly.

  Heather, feeling dazed said, “What’s going on...who is this?”

  “He’s a Viper agent,” Damion answered her concerned question. “Look, you think you know the best way out of here?”

  “Yeah.”

  --

  Sofia’s left hand that previously gripped the pistol nearly let go of it after connecting with the thick glass.

  This was the perfect opportunity for Seth.

  The limo’s rear swung hard left as the giant vehicle drifted diagonally. Its left bumper smashed into parked cars causing alarms to go off. The SUV that plowed its angry grill into the vulnerable side of Sofia’s ride didn’t separate after hitting it either. The two badly damaged vehicles were like first time dancers, bumping into everything around them. This continued for a seemingly long time as Newton’s third law imposed itself on the cars trapped in a state of flux.

  In the midst of the mayhem Seth immediately recognized the gun was off of him. If he acted quickly the situation would be even more favorable.

  With a blind jab the Mossad agent reached around and struck the shooter’s hand. He devastated Sofia Keller’s wrist. She involuntarily dropped the gun as her bone shattered. Seth shifted in his chair enough to lay eyes on the woman he just disabled in time to catch the falling weapon and in the same reflex pistol whip the interior minister directly to her skull. She wouldn’t be threatening him again in the near future.

  Then there was more bad news. The long straightaway ended in a T-intersection. A meaty building with brick masonry anxiously awaited its brick-dropping fate.

  “Oh shit,” Seth heard the staticky voice of Tyrone Banks in the other vehicle share over his earpiece.

  “How else did you think it would end?” Seth yelled back in the final seconds.

  --

  Chapter 12

  The night passed quietly with uninterrupted sleep cycles. Azriel no longer slept in his dad’s apartment. Being a cadet and all gave him his own private quarters at Masada.

  A gentle draft circulated through the room, keeping it a chill sixty-five. Azriel had only one sheet on. He sweated through it. His chest went up and down. The cadet groaned and turned over. A solid thirty minutes evaporated. The still form slid off the mattress and landed on the hard floor with bare feet.

  Azriel tied a robe on and exited his quarters. He tranced past many closed doors until he reached a fire escape. The elevators wouldn’t be on this time of night. Using his elbow he nudged the door open. Azriel caught the steel edge to slow it down before it made a loud noise when it closed.

  He didn’t fear anyone being aware of his movements too much. Although the floor resident assistant could very well give him a warning if caught out of quarters after curfew. Get too many of those and it went to a counseling with the program director. One more instance escalated it to a final word from Malach Kemper (Ephraim Markov) himself. Then it’d be there’s the door.

  Azriel knew he couldn’t get kicked out of the program by his own father though. Impossible.

  The boy climbed stair after stair. The burn intensified from the extensive climb. Finally the last flight of stairs looked up to a door labeled roof. It was unlocked from the inside.

  The sounds of Tel Aviv filled his ears as he walked under the black night sky towards his favorite view. The large towers of all shapes and sizes fell below him from his lofty perspective, nearly higher than anyone else in the city.

  He didn’t remember dreaming that night, but he was certain he had one. How else could he explain his sleeplessness? Something had been off. A nearly extinct memory or vision, he wasn’t sure which, came in and out of focus. He tried to piece it together to understand. Something about it screamed importance otherwise it’d be easier to ignore.

  Azriel found the parapet and a ladder that hung off of it. He sat on the rusted upper ledge contentedly then slowly dangled his left leg followed by his right over the top rung. His feet kicked freely. Azriel had a railing on either side of him to hold on to. He didn’t feel the need however. Fear seldom overtook him at heights.

  A stream of recollections captivated his conscience that night making him wonder how they got there. Recollections of a life he didn’t remember having. It must’ve belonged to a different person he reasoned. A dream hacker--that’s what he had become.

  Occurrence number four...how many times it had happened to Azriel. That night played out like all the rest, at first. He sat on top of Tel Aviv engaging in self-discovery soliloquy.

  He’d ask, “Who are you?”

  In another voice, his wooden, impassive cadet one, he answered, “Mossad Junior Cadet, Azriel Kemper. Son of Malach Kemper.”

  “What’s your mission?”

  “To protect the Jewish state and destroy her enemies, namely Seth Markov.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Your father did,” a female voice interrupted the self talk.

  Esther had quietly walked up on Azriel. She stood to his right and put a hand on his shoulder. “What is this?”

  Azriel’s eyes turned a different color. His brain shifted into a different gear before he re-engaged. “You found me,” he said, not wanting conversation yet acknowledging Esther had spoken nonetheless.

  There wasn’t room for two on the fire escape ladder to nowhere. Esther’s body language showed she wanted a moment with Azriel though. Maybe more than a moment.

  He wasn’t too obtuse not to notice the signs. The young man made himself small by folding his legs into his chest then slowly rising to his full height on the little platform he once sat on. Azriel delicately made his way off his nest to face her.

  “There’s a couple of chairs over there,” she gestured in the direction that veered away from Azriel’s favorite view of the city.

  Shortly the two were seated. Esther ran a furtive gander up Azriel’s bare legs to his slightly opened robe that peeked in at a more prominent bosom than she remembered he had. He was fourteen and she was seventeen. His features were mature for his age even if his actions weren’t always. But she could look past it and still see him in a favorable light.

  Esther took a measured breath and held it like she was prepared to ask something but hesitant to do so. She analysed Azriel and stopped herself.

  He could sense it, prompting him to say, “What is it?”

  “Do you remember anything?” she said. At the same time she moved closer to him until he reacted.

  “Oh.”

  “Oh?”

  Azriel’s skin grew warm. The sweat glands in his face opened up making him glisten.

  “What?”

  The young woman stole Azriel’s offering hand to hold it in her lap. She rubbed his smooth skin with a thumb.

  “Us. You really don’t remember anything?”

  “What happened to me?”

  He knows!

  The arresting development made her stomach tighten. There was so much she wanted to tell him.
An open invitation stuck around. She couldn’t push it away. It was time. Screw it.

  Esther’s heart rate quickened. “How long have you known?”

  Azriel smiled. “A guy never forgets a pretty face like yours. You brought me back,” he said returning the tender strokes on her hand like a brush to a canvas.

  “I’m sorry about the attitude I’ve been giving you.”

  He thought up an instant excuse for her. “You were in cadet mode.”

  His good-hearted rationalization made her laugh. Esther’s eyes jiggled back and forth in a place called dilemma.

  “You were asking yourself questions…”

  “Yes?”

  “I have answers,” she finally finished. “Whatever you want to know, maybe I could--”

  “Okay!” Azriel’s knees were touching hers. The point of view was much better from here. He hadn’t noticed until now that she was wearing pink again. The color of love.

  Esther’s head went back, her expression unguarded. Any secrets he wanted to know were his. All he had to do was ask.

  “I, I don’t remember how I got here. I can’t even remember a beginning. I’ve been coming up here for a while and just asking myself over and over, ‘Who am I?’”

  Esther nodded. She felt terrible for him. If it hadn’t been for her cooperation with Stacy to subdue Azriel, he wouldn’t have turned into Malach Kemper’s robot.

  “I have to be honest with you.”

  Azriel tilted his head to one side in a searching manner.

  “This is gonna get me in a heluva lot of trouble with some people,” she explained before saying what was on her heart.

  “You don’t have to,” Azriel graciously tried to give her one last way out.

  Esther temporarily stopped up her ears to block his voice out so she could do what must be done. She then communicated, “You aren’t who you think you are.”